Spectral Viewer
by Sith Happens
Summary: Joey Rafkin is talented. Just how talented? Royce Clayton is just beginning to find out.
1. Long, Windy Road

On the way to visit her brother, Joey Rafkin had an accident. It was no big deal really. She'd only wrapped the front of her car around a really big tree. She wasn't hurt, not even shaken. It was practically a common occurrence. She was always having visions, even behind the wheel. She'd owned three cars already and she was only seventeen. Sadly, she wondered if that was why Denny needed Cyrus's money so bad.  
  
Joey continued her journey on foot. Destination: Kriticos's glass house. Ha! Ectobar prison was what it was. Her brother's ghost was trapped in that place, but not for much longer.  
  
It was night and the road was long. The only light was from the growing moon. It would be full in about a week, on February 2nd. That was Candlemas. That was Joey's eighteenth birthday. There was even a blue moon predicted to boot. Didn't bother her one bit. She'd seen it coming a long time off.  
  
She walked slow, not wanting to tire herself. The trees of the woods loomed above her on both sides. There would be a rustling of leaves and an eerie wind. It wasn't a very comforting place to be, especially for someone like Joey. Then again, there was really no one like Joey.  
  
She felt something coming up behind her. A car, most likely, but it made no sound. Her stride never faltered, even when the car pulled up and slowed beside her. After a number of feet, she stopped and turned to the vehicle, which had stopped in turn. It was a Chevy, '55-'56, she wasn't much of an automotive buff. It was crushed and crunched and dented and chipped. Looked like it had been through a hell of a lot.  
  
She bent down to look into the passenger side window. The driver was a young man, or had been at one time. He was quite obviously a ghost now. Lack of pigmentation aside, his spectral nature was evident by the severe mangling of the entire right side of his body. His clothes, though torn and bloody, were classic '50s threads.  
  
"Need a lift," he asked. His voice had that rippled, haunting sound to it. He turned his head in her direction. She could see that not all of his body was torn up. Most of his face was intact. She had decided he was handsome even before then. It was him she had seen before her wreck earlier that night. Though, he didn't have scars in her vision.  
  
"I think I'll pass," she replied casually. "A long walk and fresh air'll do me good."  
  
He tilted his head slightly and looked past her. That's when she felt it. An extreme coldness tickled her as it wrapped around her waist. She was pulled back off her feet with a sudden jolt.  
  
Royce Clayton got out of his battered car, dragging his baseball bat with him. He rounded the car's front end and surveyed the situation. The Jackal had the girl pinned down on the side of the road. He was cackling wildly and tried clawing at her, but she was fighting back. She blocked the swipes he took and was able to push him off her a few inches. Royce thought it interesting that she hadn't bothered to scream for help once.  
  
The girl managed to get her foot underneath the Jackal and kicked him off her. He fell backward onto the ground as she moved in the opposite direction. He was on his feet in an instant. Royce decided to make his move before the Jackal attacked again.  
  
"Kuhn," he shouted moving closer. When the Jackal looked up, Clayton swung his bat. It connected with the metal cage around the Jackal's head and knocked him back.  
  
"I told you to stay off my road, you crazy bastard," Royce glowered as Kuhn stood himself up. The Jackal made a move toward the girl. Royce hefted his bat threateningly. Kuhn stopped, looked at Clayton, then the bat, and back again. With a low, angry howl, he retreated into the woods.  
  
Jackal had some sense; Royce would give him that. Backing off was the best thing that kook could've done. Clayton turned back to his car. He saw the girl standing, brushing herself off. He hadn't really noticed her before. Royce had a nasty habit of reliving the last night of his life every few nights of his unlife. Stopping by someone on the road was part of the routine. Now, the routine broken, Royce checked out the girl.  
  
Almost no one ever showed up around there, least of all a girl walking alone at night. He figured the wrecked car up the road belonged to her. He leaned against the side of his car, trying to make himself look cool.  
  
She was pretty good looking, he decided instantly. She wasn't wearing a dress like most girls he'd seen, but jeans and a T-shirt like a guy. Though she clearly wasn't a guy. The backpack she had strapped on accentuated that nicely. He followed her curves from head to toe, wondering what they'd feel like in his hands. Then he remembered he couldn't feel anything physically. Well, that wasn't true. He could feel the pressure from objects touching him, the way the feeling of a numb limb works. And he could feel his car. It was a part of him. But he needed something more than a car.  
  
She was watching him. Not with fear or awe as he expected. Her gaze was mostly casual and slightly critical. She was sizing him up. And, by the looks of it, the same way he had been checking her out. It made him a bit uneasy, but he turned to face her just the same.  
  
He really liked this girl. She was cool, nice looking, brave (or stupid) enough to walk alone at night, tough (or, again, stupid) enough to tangle with the Jackal. And, above all else, his torn right half seemed to have no effect on her.  
  
Joey studied the guy carefully. She wanted to have a good grasp on his form before anything else. Nice build, nice clothes, nice hair. Definitely from the '50s. He couldn't have been much older than her when he died. She was pondering that thought when he turned to her. Her heart beat a little faster, but her exterior was all cool. She'd chastise herself later about it.  
  
"Thanks for helping me," she said after a few seconds.  
  
"I wasn't helping you," he said coldly. "I was getting that nutcase out of my territory. It just happened to benefit you."  
  
"Either way, I owe you one." Joey was undeterred by his remarks.  
  
He stepped toward her with an evil smirk. "You know, Kuhn probably heard you from a mile away. Thought he'd come and have some fun with you. I have a mind to do the same."  
  
His advancing on her was threatening to say the least. Joey stood her ground and, in a flash, knew what she was to do.  
  
"Do you want to be alive again?"  
  
The guy froze with a stunned look on his face. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I can bring ghosts back to life," she shrugged. "That's the only way I have of repaying you."  
  
"What are you trying to sell," he asked suspiciously. "Because I don't have any money. I'm dead."  
  
"I'm not selling anything. Just repaying a life-debt."  
  
"Listen, my body's been six feet under for decades..."  
  
"Oh, I don't need your body."  
  
"Wait, wait, wait," he said overwhelmed. "You're telling me you can bring me, a ghost, back to life and without the use of a body?"  
  
"Correct," Joey nodded.  
  
The guy began a low, hysterical laugh. Looking up at the sky he called out "God, who is this girl?"  
  
"Name's Joey Rafkin," she answered. "And you are...?"  
  
"Royce Clayton," he responded automatically. "Hold on. Rafkin? Isn't that the name of the psychic guy at the Kriticos place?"  
  
"Yeah, he's my brother," she nodded.  
  
"Oh." His voice became very low. "Did you know that he's...?"  
  
"Dead? Yeah. That's why I'm here. I'm bringing him back, too."  
  
"You're serious about this," Royce sounded astonished. "You can bring people back from the dead."  
  
"Yes," Joey said quietly.  
  
Royce became lost in thought. After a short time, he finally said "All right. Say I believe you. What'll it take to bring me back?"  
  
"Nothing much for you really. A little patience, maybe some protection in case something like earlier happens again."  
  
He nodded slightly and again slipped into thought.  
  
"And once I'm back I'm free to go? No catches," Royce asked.  
  
Joey nodded. "Only thing is it'll be about a week before I can do it. Can you wait that long?"  
  
"I've been hanging around for a long time. I can handle another week."  
  
"Good. So, are you with me?"  
  
"Yeah," Royce conceded. "Yeah, I'm with you."  
  
"Okay," Joey beamed. "Now, I need to get to my brother."  
  
"I'll take you." Royce walked toward the driver's door.  
  
"Maybe I should drive." Joey bit down on her tongue for saying that.  
  
Royce didn't seem to care. "Judging by that car up the street, you're not very good behind the wheel."  
  
He wasn't one to talk about bad driving. He realized that after he said it. He turned his head, trying to hide the right half. He expected her to say something about it.  
  
"You're probably right." She got into the car nonchalantly.  
  
Royce got in too. He realized Joey had been wrong earlier. There was going to be a big catch to this situation. He could feel it. And that catch was sitting across from him as they rode to their destination. 


	2. Dark Dream

"Pull over here," Joey commanded quietly.  
  
Royce did so, leaving the pavement just as the road curved. Out the windshield their destination loomed hideous and glowing on the backdrop of night.  
  
"Someone left the lights on for us," Joey pointed out.  
  
Royce peered closer and nodded. That made it worse. It was an open invitation. Remembered days and nights imprisoned within those transparent walls tugged at his mind. He knew if he were on a more physical plane of existence he'd probably retch.  
  
He turned the ignition off and smirked at the absurdity of the move. Force of habit. The smirk faded as he realized he was sitting in a parked car with a girl. He sat back and looked timidly at his hands in his lap. He studied the pale blue-gray of the left one and the twisted texturing of the right. Coming back to reality he looked over at Joey.  
  
She stared blankly out the window. She wasn't blinking and, to Royce's increasing dismay, she wasn't breathing. Worried, he reached a hand over the wide leathery expanse between them. Before his fingers touched her shoulder, Joey took a deep breath and sighed. She turned her head to give him a quizzical look.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Royce suddenly noticed he had slide closer to her, his hand almost touching hers. "You weren't breathing. That's not good for a living human being."  
  
"I had what you might call a vision," Joey said rolling her eyes casually.  
  
"What was it about?" Royce asked.  
  
Joey shook her head, slightly nervous. She turned to the door. "Maybe we should get going."  
  
She grabbed the door handle, but heard the locks click loudly. She spun around to look at Royce. "What are you doing?"  
  
It was Royce's turn to be nervous. "I don't want to go to that place tonight."  
  
"That's okay. I can go by myself."  
  
"So the Jackal can get at you again," Royce scoffed. "I don't think so. You're not going anywhere without me."  
  
Joey took a breath to suppress her anger, then said calmly, "So, what are we gonna do?"  
A number of lewd replies crossed his mind, but they dissipated when she cocked an eyebrow. He was caught off guard by how attractive he found it. "We'll stay out in the car."  
  
"Can you hold this specter for that long," Joey said greatly curious.  
  
"It'll be light in a few hours. I can handle it," Royce assured her. He tried to hide how scared he was. Scared to go back to that house. Scared for her safety.  
  
"Yes, but wouldn't it drain your energy? And with me being here--"  
  
"I can handle it," Royce barked.  
  
Joey's mouth clapped shut. She had never known a ghost's actions to be tinged with fear. Hatred, anger; yes, but never fear. She was taken aback by how attractive she found it.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered sullenly and Royce was astounded to feel an aching in his chest.  
  
"Look," he tried smoothing over his earlier tone. "It'll be awhile before we go. Why don't you get some sleep?"  
  
Joey nodded, suddenly looking tired. She shifted to lean against the door.  
  
"Wait a minute," Royce said. Joey shot up and looked at him. "Close your eyes."  
  
She did so without hesitation. Looking at her reminded Royce of being parked on Lover's Lane when he was alive. He pushed the thoughts away. And when Joey opened her eyes, she found herself in the backseat.  
  
"Whoa," she whispered. "Thanks."  
  
Royce ignored her and looked out the window. He wished he had a pillow or blanket to give her, be he never really had a need for one before.  
  
Joey didn't mind. After laying down on the seat, she fell right to sleep.

Joey hated having vision-dreams. They were more vivid than waking visions, which made them more dangerous. Her vision-dreams were usually foreshadowings of things to come. That night in the ghost car was no exception.  
  
In her vision-dream, Joey was walking through the Kriticos house. She ran her fingers along the Ectobar walls. The writing came off on her skin. She heard a knocking behind her and turned around. Dennis was on the other side of the wall. He looked scared as he kept banging on the glass. She ran over and frantically rubbed at the writing. When it was all gone, Dennis gave a final bang on the glass and fell through.  
  
Joey bent to help him up when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and saw the Jackal at the end of the hall. He let out an ear-splitting cackle and began running toward her. She covered her face with her arms and fell backwards onto the floor. After a few moments, the Jackal's screeching died away and her brother disappeared.  
  
Her arms still shielded her face when Joey felt warm, gentle hands. They gripped her wrists and pulled them away. Royce was above her; unscarred; perfect. Astonished, she touched his right cheek tenderly. A small smile spread across his lips. As Royce leaned forward, she closed her eyes expectantly.  
  
Joey's eyes shot open as a cold hand tore through cloth and flesh. No longer was Royce above her. In his place was a blond man with cold, evil eyes. She screamed as his arm came down again. The nails ripped through skin and clothing above her left breast. The man laughed louder and louder until it drowned out the sound of her yelling.

Royce shook Joey roughly. He had gone to the back seat after hearing her say his name. He stuck around to see what else she might say. After a short sigh, her breath caught and she began to howl and twist in her sleep. So, now his hands gripped her shoulders desperately trying to wake her.  
  
Finally, her eyes opened. She looked around in a confused panic. She calmed when she saw Royce, and grabbed his wrist for support.  
  
For a second Royce thought he saw her as a little girl playing a cemetery with her brother not too far away. He shook the absurd thought off as he looked down at her.  
  
"Are you okay," he asked concerned.  
  
"I'm fine," she said sitting up. "Just a bad dream."  
  
He wanted to ask her what she had dreamt, but she looked so shaken. He decided against it, and against mentioning what she had said in her sleep. He even chose not to question her about the thin lines of blood seeping through her shirt above her left breast. Instead, he opted to change the subject-- and venue.  
  
"Sun's up. We can go when you're ready."  
  
Joey nodded. "I'm ready to go now."  
  
She grabbed her back pack and they got out of the car. Royce pulled his bat through the open window before the vehicle dematerialized in a soft swirl of blue-gray. They stood side-by-side, staring at the house. Then they slowly began their winding ascent toward it. 


	3. Moss Covered Walls

It was unusually warm for late January. Joey found the thought comforting. It made her feel like someone was watching over her. She stole a sideways glance at Royce. He still walked beside her, which she found puzzling. He could easily dematerialize and reappear at the house. Perhaps Royce was genuinely worried about her safety, or more likely, he really did hold a fear for the glass prison that had held him.

The house in front of them was a strange sight. While the sun shone brightly, the house remained dark, as if sucking the light out of the air. It was a stark contrast to the night before. A tingle crept up Joey's spine as a vision seeped into her mind. It steered her to the side of the road. She picked up the biggest rock she could hold and placed it in her backpack.

When she stood, Royce was right beside her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Joey raised a hand to silence him.

"Don't ask," she sighed heavily.

She continued a trek while Royce appeared beside her out of the blue. Joey glanced at him and smiled.

"You look ridiculous with that bat on your shoulder," she chuckled.

"You won't be saying that if I have to beat the Jackal off you again," Royce said flatly.

Joey continued laughing. "Touché."

Royce rolled his eyes, but cracked a small smile at Joey's laughter. It was a bit loud, but sweet and melodic. And the inappropriateness didn't mar his enjoyment of it. Royce considered adding his own laugh, but his throat went dry as he looked up to find the glass house so near.

He put a hand on Joey's shoulder, halting her in her tracks. She turned and looked at him inquisitively. "I want to ask you something."

He was grasping at straws; stalling their progress. Joey gathered this from his slightly agitated voice and defensive stance. She was surprisingly sympathetic and decided to play along. "Shoot."

"What do you have to do to bring me back?"

Joey mulled it over, trying to find the right words. "It's hard to explain. But I'll tell you this; I can't be on this physical plane of existence."

Royce looked confused, but Joey wasn't ready to tell all just yet. He'd have to wait a little longer.

She preceded toward the house with Royce a few steps behind. She looked back at him and said in a soft, jesting voice, "It's not like it can kill you."

He brought his eyes up to meet hers saying coldly "Some things are worse than death."

Joey turned back to the house. "Don't I know it," was her whispered response.

Joey stretched out of the warm ball she had created. She yawned, keeping her eyes closed. It had been a good catnap; no bad dreams. To stall the inevitable wake up, she recounted the day's events.

The doors to the house had been forced open easily. Once inside, they searched for signs of her brother. After several hours with no results, Royce's nervousness and Joey's fatigue led them to a small room. There was a soft couch Joey sat on and that's where she dozed off.

She sat up and stretched again. Looking around, she found herself alone. It didn't worry her too much. Royce was probably resting somewhere close-by. She ate a bit of food from her pack and left the room.

It was dark outside and the walls seemed to glow of their own accord. Joey was halfway down the hall when she saw something to her left. She turned and on the other side of the wall stood a figure facing away from her. It wasn't blue-gray like most ghosts, but it still had an unreal quality. It didn't seem to belong there.

Joey pounded on the Ectobar, trying to get his attention. After a few seconds, he turned around. His eyes went wide when he saw her. He scrambled to an opening in the wall, never breaking eye contact.

Once on her side of the wall, he stopped and stared at her. "Joey?"

"No," she said sarcastically. "I'm just a look-alike who happened to show up."

"Smart ass." He came up to her and hugged her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around once.

"Well, you know what I say, Denny," Joey laughed. "Simple is boring."

"I know," Denny said giving her an extra squeeze before setting her down. He held her out at arms' length for inspection. "Everything seems to be in order. All your limbs are intact. Your head seems okay, at least from the outside. Yep, just the way I left you. Except maybe that blood on your shirt. Where'd you get that?"

"Vision-dream last night. A guy swiped at me and tore some flesh."

"Really? Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Only that he had really creepy blue eyes." She shuddered involuntarily. "I am not looking forward to meeting that guy."

"So, what happens after the guy attacks you?"

"I don't know. I got woke up."

"Woke up?" Dennis cocked an eyebrow. "Who was around to wake you up?"

"A friend of mine," Joey shrugged.

"You? With a friend?" Dennis scoffed. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"

"Okay, maybe not quite a friend. More of a...uh..."

"An associate," a third voice chimed in.

Dennis looked up to see the Torn Prince walking down the hall. He grabbed Joey, dragging her behind him.

"You stay away from us," Dennis menaced feebly.

The specter stopped in mid stride. Joey poked her head around her brother's arm.

"What's going on?"

Recognition crossed Joey's face, then was replaced by slight annoyance. She nudged her brother aside. "It's only Royce. My associate."

Royce appeared before them, standing eye-to-eye with Dennis.

"You hang out with this ghost?" Dennis addressed his sister without looking at her.

The two apparitions stared at each other grimly. Joey had never seen her brother act that way. He was usually a spaz. Granted, he had a good reason to be, but still. He seemed to really distrust Royce.

The staring went on for a few seconds before Joey stopped it.

"As amusing as I find this, and truly I do," she said in all honesty. "This isn't the time or the place for it. Now, can you set this thing aside for a minute so I can explain."

They looked at her expectantly. Joey turned to Dennis.

"Last night he kept me from getting killed by the Jackal. So, I offered him a reward."

"What kind of reward?" Dennis looked back and forth between Joey and Royce.

Joey put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "I saw him, Denny."

Royce shot her a look. What did she mean by that? Was it about one of those vision things?

"So what if he was in one of your--"

"No," she interrupted. She raised her eyebrows. "I _saw_ him."

"You saw..." Dennis's eyes went wide. He looked at Royce, then back to Joey. "You're gonna try bringing us back."

"You weren't supposed to die, Denny." She looked away, as if ashamed. "Neither was he."

"No, no, no, no, no," Dennis pleaded, grabbing her arm desperately. "I don't care about me, and I certainly don't care about him. You can't do this."

"I have to," Joey said quietly. Then, louder "Besides, I figured out a new way to do it. It won't be dangerous."

Royce had had enough. He was tired of being left out of the conversation and that "dangerous" remark wasn't making it better. "What are you guys talking about?"

They both looked at him like they just remembered he was there. Dennis's hand fell away from Joey, and, without thinking about it, Royce's hand went to the opposite side. "What do you mean by 'dangerous?'"

"Like you don't know," Dennis scoffed.

"He doesn't. I never told him." Joey wrapped her fingers around Royce's wrist.

A sudden, warm feeling swept through him. He saw Joey and Dennis, but not like they were supposed to be. They looked the same age, but they were outside on an early, gray morning. Dennis was standing, talking quietly to Joey who was sitting on top of a large gravestone. Inscribed on the stone were two names and a date:

Joseph and Denise Rafkin

April 24, 1997

"Royce."

Joey's voice brought him back to the present. He knew his mind hadn't wandered long, because Joey continued as if nothing happened. "I think it's time I give you the whole score."

Down the hall, invisible to everyone, a particularly nasty ghost listened to the "whole score." He had a great idea. If he played his cards right he could be walking around town in less than a week; and if he was good at anything, it was playing his cards.

He headed away from the trio, and evil smirk twisting his unseen face. He was done rattling chains and falling apart unexpectedly. He couldn't wait to see his own blue eyes and blond hair, feel a clean suit against his skin, or hear a sexy chick say his name. His name; he hadn't thought about it in awhile. What was it again? Oh yeah, two of the nicest sounding words he could think of -- Ben Moss.


	4. School of Thought

_(A/N The long awaited fourth chapter of _Spectral Viewer _Sorry to all the people I kept waiting and sorry to all the people who dreaded me continuing... Oh, and I thought I should mention that this is really just like a filler chapter, hopefully the stuff in the next chapter I'm working on will be better.)_

Time has a way of flying by and standing still all at once. This is never more apparent than when the one keeping track is dead.

The first few days Royce spent with Joey and Dennis went by like a flash. A few moments stuck out in his mind, like a particularly scornful look from Dennis which seemed to say _It's bad enough she wants to do this for me, but why on earth for you?_

Royce didn't blame him. He couldn't understand why she'd risk bringing him back to life. He had meant to ask her, but the time never seemed right. He chuckled inwardly. A ghost worried about tact.

He looked up from his silent reverie as Joey came into the room. She circled a while, looking at the Ectobar etchings before sitting down beside him.

"Two more days," she said wistfully, then looked at her watch. "Well, if you want to get technical, 44 hours and 37 minutes. It seems like forever."

It was quiet for a moment, because Royce didn't know how to respond. Joey broke the silence.

"Ever since I told you what I have to do, you've been wondering about one thing." She sat back, seemingly relaxed. "Why would I do something like this for someone like you."

"Is that another one of your psychic gifts?" Royce was surprised at the cynacism in his voice.

Joey laughed anyway, a tired sound that tugged at Royce's psyche. "No. Just logical deductions really."

"So," he decided the time was right. "Tell me why."

She sighed. "I've always been a strange person, and the visions don't help that any. Sometimes they're good. Sometimes they're bad. Some are preventable. Some are set in stone. I don't know why I have these abilities, but I have always known one thing and that is this. This is my recurring vision. When I was a child I knew I would have to do this. I didn't understand then, but I think I do now. It's like some weird destiny thing, I guess."

"So. All of this –what you're doing, me meeting you—you're saying it's all destiny?"

Joey smirked and said laughingly "I can't even begin to know, but wouldn't it be a kicker if it were?"

Royce didn't know why, but that seemed to relieve his anxiety a bit. It didn't answer his question, though he was starting to accept that he would never learn the answers.

Joey grew nervous suddenly. She kept looking at him like she had something to ask him. Finally she voiced her thought.

"Royce, there's something I want you to do for me." She moved to the table in front of him and sat down, their knees almost touching.

"What," he asked, a little distracted by their knees.

"Well, there's a school of paranormal thought that speculates ghosts come back in what they think is the form they died with."

He was a little confused, but she continued before he could say anything.

"I want you to concentrate really hard and imagine yourself without your scars."

Royce was taken aback. It sounded ridiculous. He could change what he looked like by thinking about it. He voiced his opinions.

"Just try, please," Joey pleaded.

Royce sighed. He closed his eyes and tried seeing it. He had no luck.

"It's not working."

Joey was undeterred. "Try picturing something you did or saw when you were alive. Looking into a mirror, a dream, something."

He tried again. A memory from his childhood didn't work. Neither did an awkward memory of glancing at his reflection in the waxed surface of his car. He was about to give up, but he knew she'd keep trying to make him. Why was she doing this to him? Wasn't it enough she had dropped this whole re-living thing on him? Now, she wanted to screw with –

"Royce!" Joey sounded surprised.

He opened his eyes. He hadn't noticed the tingling sensation that spread across his right side. He reached a hand up to his right cheek and his eyes widened. His skin was smooth! No scars, just soft cheek flesh.

Royce let out an astonished sigh. "I can't believe it worked." His hand lingered a bit longer. "Does it make me look better?"

Joey's fingers reached up to caress his face. "I don't know. I thought the scars looked wicked awesome."

He covered her hand with his and pressed it closer to him. ""I wish I could feel your hand," he said quietly.

She pulled away slowly, ropping her hand to her lap. "Yeah, I wish you could, too."

She looked down at her fingers, twiddling them nervously. Royce thought his heart would break. He imagined she had sat like that quite often; sad, alone, no friends to cruise with, no one to love her like she deserved.He took her hand, interlacing their fingers, and moved to sit beside her.

"What are you doing," she asked softly.

He leaned in to face her so their shoulders touched. "I want you to feel something really weird."

Royce put his hand on her opposite shoulder and slowly moved her fingers into her. She gasped as the coldness traced her collarbone. "How does that feel?"

She smiled and he noticed her eyes were closed. "It's cold."

"Do you want me to stop?" He smiled in turn.

Her head shook slightly. "No."

Royce moved his hand down her chest swiftly, causing a bubbly giggle to erupt from her lips. "That tickled."

He pulled his hand out of her left side and placed it on her hip. She looked at his face and concerned flashed in her eyes momentarily. Her hand settled on his cheek. It took him a few seconds to realize his scars had returned.

Before Royce could move away, Joey's thumb glided back and forth on the blue-gray ridges. "Yep; wicked awesome."

He wanted to kiss her then. And not just the standard backseat make-out kind either. One of those soft, passionate ones he'd seen in the movies before. It made him feel a little silly thinking about it that way.

But he leaned in anyway and ,to his delight, Joey seemed to be expecting it.

"What the hell..."

Dennis stood in the doorway, his anger-distorted face looking down on the two of them.

Joey rolled her eyes and stood. "What's wrong, Denny?"

"What's wrong?!" her brother burst out. "I walk into a room and find my little sister about to make-out with a guy who died before she was even born."

"You know," Joey sad, sadness audible in her voice. "I thought that being a ghost would help you be a little less judgemental. No, it just made it worse."

Seeing Joey so upset was tearing Royce apart inside. He felt like putting Denny's head through a wall, but he restrained himself.

"Look Denny," Joey continued. "I know you don't like Royce and I know you're only trying to protect me, but I don't need your protection right now. I need your trust. I've never steered you wrong before, and I'm not starting now."

Dennis hung his head, as if ahamed to have thought any less of his sister. He didn't reply.

Joey noddedm taking his silence for an answer. "I'm going to bed."

When she was gone, Dennis looked up a Royce who had finally stood up.

"I do trust my sister. Which means I won't stop her from doing what she thinks is right. And she believes what she's doing with you is right. But she's the only one I've got, dead or alive, and if you hurt her, I'll make the rest of your eternity into hell."

Royce just faded away into the darkness. He never really had any intention of hurting the girl when they first met. But at the moment, he had a strange feeling that wouldn't be enough.

---

Of course, there were others who didn't mind hurting anyone, as long as it got them what they wanted. Ben Moss was starting to formulate a plan; a plan that would start the very next night.


	5. Road Rash

_(A/N: I realized the other day that maybe some readers might be confused over why Joey can see the ghosts without the glasses. The glasses are "spectral viewers" and Joey herself is in fact a "spectral viewer" Hence the title. Hope that cleared any confusion :)_

Joey awoke less agitated than when she went to sleep. A good night's rest could do wonders. Well, a good day's rest. Since coming to the Kriticos house she had put herself on a vampiric schedule of sleeping in the day and being awake in the night.

She walked aimlessly around the ruined halls looking at the barrier spells. All her life she had tried to learn Latin., but she only got as far as far as a few spoken phrases. It was hard to learn a dead language in the world of the living.

Rounding a corner with her hand on the wall, she gasped in pain. That was where her brother had been killed. She could see the event play out in her mind. The body wasn't there anymore. Arthur Kriticos had been kind enough to bury it.

She continued on until she came to a stairway going down. In the five days she had been there, she hadn't once checked out the basement. She looked around to see if Dennis or Royce were near by. She knew neither of them would want her down there.

The darkness down there was oppressive, and the only relief came from the ethereal glow of the abandoned containment cubes. She walked among them, touching the panels and seeing their deaths. Finally, she came to the one with the Torn Prince symbol etched deviously into the Ectobar.

Sh stood staring at it a moment, not sure if she even wanted to know. But she had to. She brushed her fingers down the glass and an anguished cry left her throat as Royce's death flashed through her head. She gasped for breath but refused to let go. When it was over, she placed her head on the unusually cold wall for support.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Of all the horrible deaths she had seen in that basement, only his made her cry. As much as she hated that weakness in herself, she knew it only strengthened her resolve. Royce Clayton would live again, no matter what the price.

"What are you doing down here?"

When she turned her head to look at him, Royce could see her cheeks glistening with tears. She was making this whole situation harder on him. He wanted to reach out and dry her eyes, but he steeled himself against it. Now was not the time for his silly emotions.

"I don't want you crying for me," he said hoarsely.

"I'm not," Joey retorted, wiping her cheeks. "I was tearing up over that pretty car of yours. It got smashed up bad."

"You don't belong down here. "Royce looked into his used-to-be prison. A bit of anger surged up in him.

"I had to Royce," she said apologetically. "I had to see..."

"Do you really wanna see what happened?" Royce grabbed her upper arm roughly. Unknown even to himself, he had reached a boiling point. "Do you?"

Joey looked up into his eyes. They were glazed over with unspeakable rage. It scared her, but she would not let it show. "Yes."

A painful gasp escaped her lips as Royce's death was played out again. This time she saw it through his eyes. He was already flying down the road at this point, thinking gleefully of how he had walked away from that Ford like it had been standing still.

The speedometer was bottoming out now, and it gave Royce a major thrill to know his Chevy ran that smooth even at top-end speed. But he wasn't stupid. A hairpin turn was up ahead and he had to slow down.

He depressed the brake slowly, attempting to ease the car out of its high speeds. Nothing happened. He slammed the brakes hard, panicking. Joey could feel his body constrict, as if he couldn't breath. The brakes weren't working and the sharp right turn loomed before him in the darkness.

He spun the wheel, hoping, praying, begging, the car could take the turn at its velocity. All of his cursing and crying couldn't help him. The left side of the car lifted off the pavement, the heavy Chevy balancing on only its right tires momentarily before hitting the graound on its right side. The passenger door was ripped away and in the same instant Royce's hand slipped off the steering wheel, causing him to slide down the seat.

Royce cried out in pain as his right side hit the swift moving asphalt. It began tearing chunks of flesh and bones off his body. He screamed louder than he ever thought he could and kept screaming even after he couldn't hear it any more. He was dragged this way for an interminable length of road and time.

When to car finally flipped onto its roof, Royce was left on the street not too far away. He wasn't screaming anymore, he was having a hard enough time breathing. He struggled with a few short gasps through shattered ribs until he finally quit breathing all together.

---

Joey's knees buckled and she fell onto his ghostly body. Royce's anger was quickly replaced by fear. "Oh God! Joey!"

He wrapped his arms around her, trying to support her. She remained limp for a few moments before she began trembling against him. A second later she was balanced on her feet, stepping away from him.

"I'm fine. I'm okay," she said hoarsely, wiping her face clean of a few stray tears. She heemed to be reassuring herself of that fact more than Royce.

He reached out for her, but she backed up to the wall, her chest heaving. "Just... give me a minute... to catch my breath."  
  
Looking at his outstretched hand, Royce thought he could cry. In fact, he knew if he were alive, he'd probably be weeping like a little child.

"I don't know why I did that..." he said pleadingly, desperate to make her understand he hadn't meant to hurt her. He truly sisn't know why he had done it at all.

"I bet I know why."

Royce spun toward the vaguely familiar voice and came face to face with a color-faded specter. It was the suit who had come through the basement on the night the twelve ghosts were released. Royce stepped in front of Joey protectively.

"Well, it it isn't Road-rash Royce," the suited apparition remarked. "And Joey Rafkin, the guest of honor."

Joey's fingers clutched Royce's arm as she pulled herself from the wall. She rested her cheek on his shoulder, still a little wobbly. "Ben Moss."

Royce looked down at her, questioning her knowledge. In an almost imperceptable move, she indicated the red slashes on her shirt. He knew instantly that this new ghost had been in her vision, bent on hurting her. A different kind of rage swelled within him.

"That's right, girly." Moss couldn't help but smirk when she stood up on her own. Eyeing her up and down, he said "My, my. How can a hot chick like you be related to that crackpot Rafkin?"

"At least he's not some deranged psyche lawyer like you," Joey spat.

Suddenly, Moss was a few feat in front of her. He grabbed her wrist tightly, dragging her forward a step. With a maniacally raised eyebrow, he said "I can show you how deranged I really am."

In an instantaneous moment, Royce had his bat and was striking Moss in the back. The grip on Joey's wrist let go as the ghost lawyer fell to his knees. She jumped away as his back half slid off to one side, leaving the front half up.

Moss couldn't move his lips, but his ethereal voice still sounded arrogant as it said "It'll take a while to pull myself together. Run if you like. I'll still be seeing you."

The front half began tipping forward but disappeared before hitting the floor. Joey looked up to see Royce reappearing without his bat.

"Come on. Let's get you upstairs." Royce seemed unsure of himself. He didn't know what to do with his hands. Joey solved the problem by again wrapping her finger around his upper arm. Very gently, he led her out of the basement.


	6. Heartache

Royce wrapped a blanket around Joey's shoulders. Both were a little saddened by the hesitancy of the move.

"Tell me again what happened." Dennis paced nervously in front of Royce and Joey, who sat on the edge of her self-appointed bed.

Joey recounted the event, skillfully leaving out the part with Royce's death.

Denny groaned and again paced, his hands waving hysterically. "I can't believe this is happening. What could he possibly want?"

"He wants me to bring him back too." Joey stood, taking the blanket with her. "He was just a slime ball before he bought it, but bringing him back now with his new knowledge of the dead – he'd be like Cyrus, only this time he might succeed."

"No one's asking you to bring him back, Joey." Denny had stopped again and was now standing before his sister. "I'm just worried about this."

"I told you it would happen."

"Yeah, but deep down inside I've always wished your visions were bogus." He put a hand on her shoulder. "No luck there, I guess."

Joey smirked, then her face twisted into a giant yawn.

"You should probably get some sleep." Dennis motioned her back to the bed. "Maybe I should stay here for the day, just in case."

"Royce'll stay," Joey said through another yawn. She knew it took all her brother's will not to glare at the other ghost. "You don't have that kind of energy. He's had 50 years of practice."

Denny wasn't going to argue with her reasoning. With a defeated look, he disappeared through the glass door. As she had promised, Joey produced a black marker and set to work copying a barrier spell onto the blank panel. She wasn't sure exactly what she was writing; she only hoped it would do the job.

Turning back around, she noticed Royce still sitting on the bed. He stared blankly at the floor between his feet. Joey sat down to his right, deliberately avoiding eye-contact with him. She didn't want to disturb whatever he was thinking.

After a few moments, she couldn't take the awkward silence anymore. She looked at him and was overcome with an urge to touch him. She did, softly moving her fingers over the scars.

"I felt everything," she said. "How thrilled you were to win the drag race, how scared you were when you couldn't brake, when your heart stopped..."

Joey was surprised to see Royce take a deep, shuddering breath, as if on the verge of sobbing. "I'm sorry I did that to you. It's bad enough it happened to me, I shouldn't have put you through it, too."

"It's not your fault, Royce." She moved her hand to his shoulder. "I don't know how Moss learned those spells, but he made you do it."

"But that's just it," Royce said turning to her. "If I don't know when he'll take control I shouldn't be around you. I don't want to hurt you again."

Royce realized then that he was cupping Joey's face in his hands. He looked down at her, thankful he didn't have to breath, because the way she looked at him would have done the job. Her lower lip tremble as she stubbornly held back tears.

The slow movement of her fingers wrapping around his wrists sent a ripple through his mind. He saw her curled up at her parents' grave. Tears gushed from her eyes and her body was wracked with sobs.

Royce's hands left her face, but she still held them. Then, barely louder than a whisper, she said "It'll hurt worse if you go."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, neither sure of what to do next. Then Joey turned away and stood up, as if finally coming to a decision.

"I'm going to take a shower." She glanced over her shoulder at Royce. "Will you be here when I get back?"

"Of course."

Joey gathered some clean clothes from her pack and disappeared into the bathroom. Royce decided to lay on the bed as he heard the faucets turn on. His head struck to pillow lightly and he marveled at how long it had been since he'd last done that. He felt like it was a good time to let the world phase out around him, instead of the other way around like usual.

He thought seriously for sometime about going into the bathroom, throwing the curtain back, and making love to Joey in the shower. He could imagine the feel of water trickling down his back as he held her naked in his arms. Royce couldn't delude himself for too long, though. He was dead and knew things wouldn't work out quite right.

But he figured it wasn't really about him getting anything out of it. It was about giving something to Joey; making her feel something besides sorrow. When he realized that, Royce vowed that if this plan worked, and he was alive again, he would find a way to keep Joey safe and happy, no matter what it took.

Royce was so wrapped up in his own world, he didn't hear the shower turn off or Joey coming out of the bathroom. So, when he felt something touch his shoulder, he nearly jumped off the bed. He looked up to see Joey leaning over him slightly, holding back a fit of giggles

"I didn't know ghosts could get scared."

"Not scared," Royce huffed. "Just startled."

Joey pulled the covers back and they moved through Royce like he was air. He watched as she settled on the sheets to his left. She was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and her hair was down. He bit his lower lip while she wasn't looking.

Royce folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. The room Joey chose was one of the few left intact after the explosion of the Ocularis. The darkness of extremely early morning seeped into the glass room.

"How do you sleep in here during the day," Royce asked as she began shimmying under the covers.

"The trees shade a lot of light on the morning and late afternoon. I don't know about the rest of the time. I've never been much of a sleeper, but something about this house just drains me."

"Yeah," he replied. She turned off the light as he continued. "I know how it feels."

He felt her shift closer to him, laying her head on his arm. It took him a second to realize she was curling up close to him.

"I'm not warm," Royce said absently.

"It doesn't matter," was Joey's tired response.

With that, the ghost wrapped his arm around her shoulder and let her fall asleep.


	7. Beginning of the End

Royce came out of his resting state an hour or so after the sun had set. Sometime during the day, he had turned onto his left side, facing Joey whom he held tightly to him. He was stunned to notice he knee was resting on his right hip.

He went to slide away from her, but she yawned and inched closer to him. Her eyes flew open as if she just realized what she was doing. Twisting her head up to look at him, she said sheepishly, "I'm sorry."

Royce grabbed her knee before she could move it. Joey looked down at his hand. He slid it up her thigh, letting his fingers slip under her skin once and a while. She shuddered a bit, then buried her face in his shoulder, trying to hide her embarassed laughter.

"You like that, do ya," he chuckled. He brought his other hand up to her hair and played with the strands thinking of how soft they must be. Then, taking on a serious tone, Royce said "You know, if you bring me back tonight I won't be able to do that."

Joey stopped laughing and looked up at his face. They both thought of how much that statement actually meant. If she brought Royce back he would be a living breathing human being. He'd have no ghostly abilities and no spectral immortality. He'd be susceptable to all human pains. But he could also have all the pleasures.

Thinking that, Joey smiled and said "No, but you'll be able to do other things."

She started moving away from him, but didn't get far before Royce rolled with her, landing awkwardly between her legs. He held his weight above her with one elbow, not wanting to crush her. Looking down into her eyes, he knew that at that moment she would do anything for him and vice versa. He leaned in, ready to kiss her.

An urgent knocking sounded at the door, halting Royce's lips just inches above Joey's. With a dramatic sigh, he looked out into the hall, already knowing it was Dennis who disturbed their interlude. For the second time that week Royce had been in the position to kiss the greatest girl he'd ever know and for the second time Dennis had ruined the moment. He looked back to find Joey propped up on her elbows beneath him.

"He can't see us. Some kind of cloaking spell on the walls," she said peering around Royce's shoulder.

When Joey looked back up at him a soft, rosy blush spread across her cheeks. Her mouth went dry. Royce smirked, probably at the blushing. Another burst of knocking erupted.

"You should answer that," Royce said, before fading away.

Joey sat for a second, then slowly got up and went to the door. She hit the button, causing the glass to slide away. Dennis stepped inside the room and looked curiously at the door jamb.

"Looks like hand-copied spells work," he said glancing at Royce, who had materialized in the corner mearest the door.

"That might come in handy later." Joey picked up her black marker to take it to her pack. The moment her fingers glided over the labeled surface, her breath caught in her lungs. A vision flashed through her mind, freezing her mid-movement.

She saw her body lying still and lifeless on a table. People were talking; two of them. She recognized the voices of Royce and Denny. Joey was still looking at her body when a spectral hand grabbed the hem of her body and exposed her stomach. The hand left her view for a second, then returned with the black marker and began writing on her skin. It was a Latin spell she couldn't read.

Denny's hand on her shoulder brought Joey out of her trance-like state.

"What did you see," he asked as Royce appeared beside her.

"I'm going to need this marker later," she said, then asked the ghosts to leave so she could get dressed.

---

Joey decided to make the library the center of the night's activities. What had once been the house's pristine and beautiful safe-spot was now a disastrous pile of debris. Books lay strewn about, ripped and punctured by shards of glass fallen from the collapsed ceiling.

The crunch beneath her feet sounded small and insignificant even in the dead silence. There were no animal noises; no chirping insects or birds or baying wolves. It was as if all the creatures had been frightened away. All except the senseless human girl walking through a lidless glass box.

She brushed the shattered Ectobar off the table, careful not to cut herself. Plopping her pack on the table, she pulled out a few essential items. Joey placed them in order of importance, then rearranged them. She was stalling for time, nervous about her next move.

It was unavoidable. Joey would have to go into the basement and retrieve the Arcanum. The Latin book was needed to protect her while she brought Royce and Denny back. But she was afraid of running into Ben Moss again. None of her visions told her exactly what dangers he held for her. That was never a good sign.

"Royce," Joey said into the stillness surrounding her. She was hoping he had followed her into the destroyed library. She was right.

He materialized next to her. "Yes?"

She hadn't seen him in a few hours, since he had left her room, but she still felt a little embarassed. Putting away such thoughts, she asked "Do you know where Denny is?"

"Outside," Royce answered. "At his grave."

Joey had figured as much. Her brother was always one to take deep self-contemplation very seriously. Being at his own burial site would make the matter more grave. She knew the irony would not be lost on him.

"Royce, I need the Arcanum from the basement." She looked over at him. "I don't want to go alone."

He stared at her for a second, apprehensively. Then, he nodded, saying softly "Okay...okay."

They left the room and walked through the halls until they found the stairs. Stopping at the top, they stared down into the darkness. Joey took the opportunity to weave her fingers into Royce's. He looked down at her and nodded. They stpped down together.

In the basement, the containment cubes were still glowing. The fact that they were open and empty made it look like a zoo after all the animals had escaped. They walked among the cages, looking into them as if they contained some unfortunate stragglers. They came upon Royce's former cell. Joey squeazed his hand a little tighter.

Unbeknownst to Royce and Joey, Ben Moss was following behind them. He was silent and undetectable, ready to make his move.

Joey saw the book caught between two glass panels along with a crushed corpse. She let go of Royce's hand, leaving him behind her as she searched for the button that worked those particular pieces of Ectobar. She finally found it. The left panel moved back a number of feet, inadvertantly creating another dead-end hall.

She stepped over the crunched body and grabbed the bbok. As her fingers brushed the leather, a chilling tingle went up her spine. It was a reaction her body usually saved for the greatest immenent physical danger. She knew the danger was not from the book.

"Royce," she questioned, her voice already a plea. She still crouched as she turned. "Royce?"

But she knew instantly that it was not Royce who loomed above her. The thing that looked down upon her with its evil sneer was not the familiar ghost that had protected her the nigth before or had accompanied her into that dreadful basement. She looked now into the cold, cruel eyes of the Torn Prince and her heart was stricken with grief. Joey didn't even register the danger when he shouldered his bat, preparing to strike.


	8. Ego amor tibi

(A/N: This is kind of a strange chapter. I wrote it in one day with little sleep, but it had to be done. So, with no further ado, I give you what is probably the oddest thing I've written for this story...)

Joey finally moved as the bat swung toward her head. She fell hard onto her back, dodging the strike by inches. Sparks flew wildly as it connected with the Ectobar.

She scrambled backwards, hoping to escape down the new hall. Her hopes were dashed when she felt the wall behind her. She looked at the Torn Prince, who emitted an evil chuckle. He advanced upon her, beating the walls to scare her even more.

Joey stood and looked beyond him, searching for a way around him. She was saddened but nor surprised to see Ben Moss standing directly behind her attacker; practically whispering into his ear. She burst into tears.

She still wept as the Torn Prince drew closer. She should have expected something like this. But her visions had given her absolutely no warning. She thought bitterly of how fitting a lesson it was.

"Wait," she sobbed before he got too close.

He stopped, both ghosts trying to give her a false sense of hope. Joey wasn't fooled. Dropping to her knees, she turned away, positioning her head well within the bat's reach. One good swing should kill her instantly. She decided if she had to go, she wanted it to be quick.

Another evil laugh came from behind her, this time issued form Ben Moss. She ignored him, squeezing her eyes shut against her tears. She thought back on the things most people would do in this situation. Some one's life would flash before their eyes. Others would worry about their family.

Joey thought briefly of Dennis, already knowing she'd probably become a ghost to haunt the glass house with him. She thought of the pain. The physical pain wouldn't last much longer than the sound thwack she'd receive. It was the emotional pain that worried her. Even if she came back as a ghost, Royce would still be the Torn Prince. Her heart would break seeing him like that for eternity.

She felt him step closer. That was even better. As loud as she could with clenched eyes and broken heart, she said "Royce, ego amor tibi."

Sucking in a deep breath, she tensed her body, waiting for the deadly blow.

---

Dennis had been sitting at his makeshift gravemarker, contemplating his life and death, when a great pain lanced through his head. He fell into the grass, wailing in agony. He had never felt so much pain, even when he died.

Images flashed before Denny's eyes; Joey backing into a wall with sparks all around, Royce swinging his bat wildly at her.

Horrified, he realized his sister was in trouble. He wasted no time in getting to her.

---

Ben Moss couldn't help but laugh at the scene before him. His cruel gaze watched as the girl knealed on the floor in submission. He knew her game; trying to make her death as quick and painless as possible. She was a smart one. Quite unlike her brother, Moss thought with disdain.

He didn't mind killing her quick. Her death wasn't for entertainment. He could think of better ways to entertain himself with her. But he considered this a business matter. Pleasure would come later.

Moss urged the Torn Prince forward. Such a puppet he had made out of the fearsome ghost with only a few Latin words. He was startles to here the girl speak a few of her own.

"Royce, ego amor tibi," she had sobbed.

He was trying to figure out what she was saying when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder and drew him back. Moll looked into the inhumanly angry face of Dennis Rafkin. It shocked Moss to realize Rafkin was lifting him off the floor. The dead psychic shoved him against an Ectobar wall, seering his back with the writing. His mind snapped into action, reciting an incantaion to send the big brother hurtling backwards.

With one Rafkin out of the way momentarily, Moss turned his attention back to the other one. He snickered as the Torn Prince raised his bat, ready to swing.

---

Royce was lost in the muddled depths of his own consciousness. He was vaguely aware of his body moving, out of his control. A steady stream of murmured commands directed him physically, pushing his mind out of the way. It put him into a fog that blinded and nearly deafended him.

There were a few sounds audible to his detached presence; like the murmurs and a clanging noise he could almost recognize as a baseball bat on glass. The sound confused him; so did everything else.

The murmurs stopped abruptly, leaving his body suspended in its empty state. At the same moment a new voice echoed loud and clear through his cavernous mind.

"Royce, ego amor tibi."

He wasn't sure what it meant or even who said it, but it caused a flood of memories. Him picking up a girl in his car, the same girl beautiful girl smiling warmly at him, lying beneath him on a soft bed. Each flash pierced the fog until his inner voice screamed out the girl's name in pain and horror.

Royce could see with his own eyes now. Joey knelt before him, looking away. He heard a thud behind him, then a more distant one. He knew the cause of the noises and his mental imprisonment could come from only one source. With an angry grunt, he swung the bat high, only inches above Joey's head. He added force to the follow-through, spinning him around and bringing the bat into sharp contact with Ben Moss's chest.

The ghost looked stunned, even as Royce brought the bat down upon his bent back. Royce would have kept beating him except that Moss disappeared quickly after the second blow. He turned around and dropped his bat. Joey still knelt, prepared to die at Royce's hand.

He started toward her but stopped when he noticed her brother leaning against the entrance to her little alcove. Royce was suddenly uncertain of his place in the situation. He wanted to got to her, comfort her, but he was the cause of her misery. Her brother should be the one with her.

Dennis looked at him and with a sad smile, motioned for him to continue. Without hesitation, Royce went in, snak to the ground before her and gathered her into his arms.

---

Dennis Rafkin could homestly say he couldn't read Latin, but that didn't mean he was completely oblivious to the meanings of certain words. When his sister was younger, she had learned some phrases in the language and had passed them onto him, for the sake of sisterly love. He had thought it utterly ridiculous at the time.

But that night the knowledge had proven itself useful at last. He had appeared in the basement behind the Torn Prince just in time to here her speak her Latin phrase. It struck him sharply. He had planned on aiming his destructive anger at the batter, but her words caused him to go after Moss.

Now, looking at Royce gently holding his crying sister, Dennis knew his role as her protector was coming to a rapid end. Soon, he wouldn't be the only one she could turn to. He wouldn't be needed as much. It made him sad to think of it, but he always knew it would happen sooner or later. He realized he'd been hoping for later.

He thought back to the words she had said when she thought she would die. They filled Dennis with a strange sense of pride for his little sister. She had finally become a part of something bigger than she could have ever envisioned.

Ego amor tibi. Latin for "I love you."

---

Ben Moss growled in anger and frustration. His plan had been foiled by that stupid little girl. But Moss would not be deterred so easily. He had another plan. A wild card; a very wild card.

(A/N: Looks like Ben Moss isn't finished just yet. Sorry if this chapter seemed a little sappy. Now, how to begin the next chapter...)


	9. Look of Love

Joey sat atop the table in the library, the Arcanum clutched in her hands. Despite her natural love for books, she could have ripped the one she held to shreds. It was the cause of so much misery, not just for her but for all of humanity. She'd have to keep it safe after the night was over.

She looked at the backs of her ghostly protectors. They stood guard near the door, fearing a reappearance of Ben Moss. They all knew he wasn't done for the night. She focused on Royce, her chest constricting at the thought of him almost an hour ago. It wasn't the memory of him as the Torn Prince that made her feel strange, but of what happened afterwards.

For what seemed loke an eternity she had knelt on that floor, waiting to die. She wouldn't be tricked into looking back. But the strike never came. Instead, she heard the sounds of a scuffle behind her. Still she refused to move. Then she felt someone in front of her. Opening her eyes, she cried anew. It was Royce there, looking at her shame- faced. She threw her arms around his neck, allowing him to pull her even closer.

"Thanks for not killing me," she chuckled into his ear, voice quavering.

The absurd statement kept her from sobbing uncontrollably. He pulled away long enough to dry her cheeks and plant a soft kiss on her forehead. Not long after that they had made their way upstairs with her brother.

Royce must have felt her eyes on his back because he turned to look at her. He smirked at her reassuringly and she was in love. Not that she wasn't already in love with him. It was just that, with the look he was giving her, Joey realized that scars or no scars, he was the most perfect being she could ever hope to know. She wanted nothing more than to lie in his arms forever. But she could have slapped herself for being so sappy and pathetic.

She looked up at the full moon through the open ceiling, then at her watch. It was 11:30. With a heavy sigh, Joey said "It's time."

Both ghosts spun around quickly. They walked slowly to where she sat. Joey moved back on the table, putting the book aside. The specters stopped on either side of her. Without a word she placed a hand on a small black case. Dennis put his hand on top of hers there, causing her to look up at him. His eyes pleaded with her not to do this. Then his hand slipped away.

What Royce had thought was a glasses case turned out to be holding a syringe and a little glass bottle of a translucent yellow liquid. Joey filled the needle and held it before her face.

"What is that," Royce asked.

"Just something to help the process," she replied, tapping the syringe and presing the plunger to get the excess air out.

"How'd you get this?" Dennis eyed the unmarked glass bottle.

"Remember when I was eight and Mom and Dad took me to the hospital after I hit my head during a vision?"

"Yeah," Denny said curiously.

"Well, I pocketed these bad boys when no one was looking," Joey shrugged.

"And you never told me about this?" Her brother was shocked.

"You were tired of hearing about tonight. I figured you didn't want to hear about this either."

Denny shook his head, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I'd never not listen to you."

Royce watched Joey and Denny have their moment and felt left out, even a little jealous. Then, she looked over at him, smiling softly, and he was in love. Not that he wasn't already in love with her. It was just that he realized at that moment she was perfect in his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms forever. But he could have smacked himself for thinking that way.

Joey took a deep breath and said "Okay, I'm ready."

With another deep breath she pushed the needle into the vein in her left arm and injected herself with the liquid. She laid down on the table, closing her eyes.

"This shouldn't take too long," she said. "Maybe you guys shouldn't watch this."

Royce would have clasped her hand, but Joey made him and Dennis both promise not to touch her when the time came. Neither of them looked away, which seemed to amuse her.

"I didn't think s—"

Joey's face twisted into a grimace of pain. Then her eyes grew wide as she gasped for air. The ghosts watched horrified as her back arched off the table inhumanly and her arms flailed about wildly. Her gasps became more and more shallow, her body twitching with every one. Eyes fluttering shut, she gave a great exhale and fell limp. Joey's dead body began to grow cold inder the sad, watchful gazes of Royce and Dennis.

---

Ben Moss stood arrogantly at the edge of the woods, shouting a summoning spell at the dark trees. He was answered by a chillingly familiar cackle.


	10. Party Time

It wasn't long before Joey opened her eyes and sat up stiffly. She felt strange, like she wasn't quite all there. Then reality hit her. She looked at the table behind her. Her corpse lie there, pale and lifeless. She almost laughed at how stupid she looked.

Pulling her hands free of her mortal body, she turned her eyes to her brother. Denny seemed sad, as if he could have cried. Joey reached her hand out and tweaked his nose, something she'd done as a little girl to cheer him up.

"I'm back," she smiled.

Looking at Royce, she knew a playful prod wouldn't make him better either. Joey got off the table to stand next to him. When her feet hit the floor, she thought she'd crumple to the ground. Her legs felt unstable. She nearly fell into Royce, who put a hand out to steady her.

"Careful," he said softly. "It's a little hard the first time."

Joey looked at her body, knowing what had to come next. She needed to get Royce and Denny away for a little while so she could work in secret.

With a sad look to the two other ghosts, she said "Can I have a few minutes alone?"

They both nodded and, not wanting to leave her entirely alone, moved to the far corner. She could hear them talking, probably about how best to keep her body safe. She wasted no time in pulling the Arcanum out. Flipping to no specific page, she stopped and stared. She pushed aside all her thoughts and concentrated solely on the book's writing.

Slowly, as if by magic, the words began to take on meaning. They glowed furiously, but became clearer and clearer until she could read them like English. She was ecstatic to find she was right. Latin was not only a dead language, but the language of the Dead. Any ghost with the right motivation could understand it.

She grabbed the marker from her pack and began writing on the stomach of her dead body, the Latin words flowing from her fingers haphazardly. It was a protection spell. She looked at her handy work. A bit sloppy, but understandable. Picking up a rather large chunk of glass, she wrote a similar one of the clear surface.

Just as she finished, a gleefully evil cackle howled through the night air. All three ghosts knew that maniacal laughter well. Royce turned around to find Joey standing there. Her face had a look of grim determination that he didn't understand. Shoving a big shard of glass into his hands, she said "Keep this with you at all times."

He went to grab her as another cackle arose in the air, but she had disappeared.

"Where did she go," Dennis asked, worried.

"I don't know," Royce replied. "But she isn't safe. Watch the body. I'll find her."

Then he too faded away, leaving Denny alone with the sounds of evil growing louder.

---

The crazy laugh came in short intermittent bursts. Joey was sure it followed her through the endless halls. She kept ahead, knowing the laugher was toting with her. She finally found what she was looking for, a long deadend corridor.

Any person in their right mind would not have walked down that hall. Joey strode down there with little hesitation. At the deadend, she picked up a fist sized bundle. Unwrapping the cloth, she pulled out a large rock; the one she had picked up on the road almost a week ago. It was heavy in her hand.

Suddenly, she knew he was there. The cackling had stopped and she looked

toward to open end of the hall. The Jackal stooped there, smiling like the cat who'd caught a mouse. He swayed on his feet, as if dancing to his own music. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips as he watched her.

Joey was naturally terrified, even though she knew exactly what to do. Her entire lonely life had already flashed before her eyes when she died. Now, the moments she saw were images of her brother, who had died saving others, and Royce, who had been ripped to shreds at far too young an age. A steely resolve set on her at the thought of Dennis and especially Royce. She had to bring them back.

Tossing the rock down the hall, she said "No matter what the price."

A low cackle erupted from the Jackal, causing a sudden rage to flare within Joey. With a long, angry cry, she began running for the demented ghost. Howling in amusement, he darted towards her.

Joey's hands shot out just in time to grab the cage around the Jackal's head. She cried out in pain as his claws ripped at her hands and arms, but she didn't let go. Swinging the cage back and forth, she battered him against the walls fiercely until she was able to hurl him to the floor.

The force of him hitting the ground seemed to jar the Jackal enough to allow Joey to straddle him and pin his wrists down with her knees. The she saw him lick his lips again. He laughed and squirmed suggestively beneath her. She realized disgustedly that he had allowed her to win this battle.

But there was no way he could have predicted her next move. The rock was well within her reach. She picked it up and brought it down hard upon his cage, sending sparks flying. His squirming turned into frantic, fearful jerks as she continued beating the metal.

With a low, rusty groan, the frame gave and the cage popped open. Joey threw the rock aside and took the vile thing off the Jackal's head. The crazed ghost's eyes held hers, his expression akin to shock and confusion. She faded out and reappeared a several feet away. He sat up and looked at her strangely. She didn't move, just waited. It was the Jackal's move now, but the smirk that appeared upon his face had her rethinking her plan.

---

Dennis paced back and forth, worried beyond belief. He hadn't heard hide nor hair of Royce or Joey for quite a while, and time was ticking fast. He reluctantly checked the watch on his sister's dead arm: 12:03 am.

"Happy eighteenth birthday, little sis," he said sadly.

A crunch of glass behind him had Dennis spinning around. Ben Moss stood in the library with an evil smirk.

"Eighteenth birthday? Well, it's time she had a little adult-age fun."


	11. Good Boy, Bad Casper

Royce was in a panic. He'd been searching for Joey for what seemed like forever. He followed the sounds of the Jackal, figuring the nutball would lead him to her. But then the sounds stopped. He feared what that might mean.

He kept walking, calling Joey's name once in a while. Passing a deadend hall, something caught his eye. He turned down there and came across a big rock on the floor. He picked it up and was met with a strange tingle in the back of his neck.

An image of Joey picking up the rock flashed in his mind. Then her pinning the Jackal down and beating him with it. Royce dropped the rock and shuddered. He didn't know what had happened, but he head an odd feeling that he should go back to the library. There was no time to analyze it. He went back quickly, hoping his instincts were leading him to the right place.

---

In the library, Dennis was held immobile by an invisible force. Moss looked at him amused.

"I think I like you better this way," Moss sneered. "I don't have to hear you talk or watch you spaz like a freak."

He turned his attention to the body on the table. It lay there motionless, unbreathing, and he knew her heroically imbecilic plan had begun. Sooner or later, Joey's ghost would return to complete its mission. And Moss would be waiting.

Moving to the opposite side, he looked at Denny over the table. He grabbed the face of the dead body and jerked it back and forth harshly, inspecting it closely. The spine moved easy. Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet.

"You know," Moss said to Dennis as he moved his fingers down the body. "Your sister's kind of hot for a kid. I'm thining about having a go with her when she brings me back; break her in. Show her how a real man works before she gets stuck with some stupid little punk..."

He spun around and froze Royce whose bat was raised to swing. Moss had heard the ghost approaching before he started talking. Now he looked gleefully at his newest statue.

"It seems my puppet has returned," he mused. "Let's seewhat little dances you can do."

He spouted off a few spells, but was surprised to see they didn't work. A few more and still nothing, to his frustration.

"Well," he said vexed. "I may not be able to control you like before, but, as long as I have such a rapt audience, I might as well put on a show."

Moss reached to the floor for a sharp shard of glass. He held it before his face, moon light glinting off of it, saying "Now, I know I can't just stab the body, that would ruin the whole plan. The way I figure it, I can leave a few scars. It'll give me something to look at when I'm riding her like Secretariat."

Repositioning the glass in his hand, he brought it down to within inches of the body. But it would go no further. He did it again, but try as he might, he couldn't push the shard past those few inches. An angry growl burst from him as he threw the glass at the wall. With a deep breath, he steadied himself.

That's when he heard it; the crunching of galss near the darkened door. He looked up in that direction and saw Joey standing there. Her arms and shirt were scratched and ripped. She looked crazed, like she had been to Hell and returned to demonstrate.

"You think you're one bad Casper, don't ya," Joey said. Her voice quaked as if she held back the ultimate rage of her being. "I think you should meet my new best friend."

She raised her hand, pointing straight at Moss. "Sick 'im, boy!"

A maniacal howling erupted as the Jackal came out of no where, lunging at Moss over the table. The lunatic tackled the lawyer to the ground and began tearing into his blue-gray flesh. The action broke Moss's hold over the other two ghosts. Denny crumpled to the ground as Royce completed he delayed swing.

The unfrozen apparitions stared wide-eyed at the scene before them. They began backing away. Royce nearly ran into Joey. He was relieved to see her there. Then, he noticed the way she looked.

"God, Joey what happened to you?" The sight of her made him forget everything else.

"Shhh..." she whispered, folding her hands in his. She stooped down and picked up the Jackal's headcage.

"Ryan," Joey shouted over the Jackal's crazed laugh.

The demented creature stopped mid-swipe and turned to her. She held up the cage and a smirk tugged at her lips. "I think he'd look even better in this."

An evil, knowing smile appeared on Kuhn's disturbed face. He stood and hauled Moss's split body with him. Stepping toward Joey, he reached out for her. Royce moved in front of her protectivly. The Jackal stopped and looked amused at the torn ghost. Joey stuck the cage out around Royce's shoulder. Kuhn grasped the thing in his clawed hand and walked toward the door, eyeing Royce who followed his movement while keeping Joey behind him.

Once the Jackal disappeared down the hall with a triumphant cackle, Royce felt Joey's arm wrap around his waist. She rested her head on the back of his shoulder in exhaustion. He spun around and folded her into his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck as he hands grasped his shoulders. He gently caressed her new scratches the way she had touched his scars so many times. Another sappy thought crossed his mind. He wished he could kiss every one of those cuts away.

Joey pulled away, holding him at arms' length. Then, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the table where her brother waited.

"Well boys," she said more high-spirited. "The good news is the hard part's over."

"What's the bad news," Dennis asked.

She shrugged, but Denny knew better. He had known Joey for exactly eighteen years that day. He could tell she was worried about something. His head told him to ask her, but his gut told him to let it go. His gut prevailed.

Joey hopped back on the table with her corpse. Royce and Denny stood to either side of her. She looked up through the shattered ceiling, marvelling at the moon amd stars. She sucked the unneeded cold air into her unneeded cold lungs and sighed. Positioning herself so she would overlap with her body, she looked at her two companions.

Then, she leaned over to Royce and whispered "As mush as I love your scars, you should probably try getting rid of them."

He was confused for a second, then remembered. Royce shut his eyes and tried making himself wholee. He concentrated on the night he first tried to kiss Joey. It didn't work. He started getting angry with himself; frustrated that he couldn't do it. Joey couldn't bring him back that way. A stray, aggrevatingly true thought came to him. If he didn't come back, he could never feel her hand...

"Royce." Joey's voice cut through his comtemplation. "You did it."

It was true. His right side was flawless compared to its former gruesomeness. Royce opened his eyes to look at Joey. He knew the shameless longing he saw in her eyes mirrored his own. It took all his will power not to pull her to him and hold her until there was no more pain within her. Joey sighed again, as if it expressed some unspoken worry or fear.

"Give me your hands," she said. Royce and Denny complied and Joey held them firmly. "Here we go."

She began leaning back, her spirit alligning with her body. Soon, her head and hands melded into her corpse. As she entirely disappeared inside herself, screams of agony were ripped from the throats of Royce and Dennis.


	12. Resurrection

Pain tore through Royce, seering him, blinding him to everything else. It shot up from his hand the instant Joey had disappeared. He had never felt such pain, even when he died. He would have crumpled to the ground if his muscles would work.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain that seeped into his very core flowed out of him like a cloud passing slowly through him. This time, once the stinging subsided to a dull ache, he did fall to the floor. He coughed violently, his body trying to expell a substance he didn't have.

Royce's mind began working again. The first thing he realized was that he was breathing. He lifted his hands to look at them. They were flesh, living flesh. Moving his to his knees, he frantically patted his naked body, checking to see if it was true. He found warm skin, his scars replaced by a pulse. A triumphant laugh escaped his lips.

"Joey," he still laughed. He looked up at the table and knew something was wrong. "Joey?"

Royce stood and stared at the still body. She wasn't breathing. He hooked his arm under her, half lifting her off the table. Her body moved stiffly. His fingers moved to her cold, pale cheek.

"No, Joey," he pleaded, his voice sounding loud in the dead silence. Tears spilled from his new living eyes. "Don't let the first time I feel you be the last."

He pulled her fully against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. Sobs wracked him as he rocked her back and forth. He looked up to see her brother standing, naked, staring, weeping. That's when Royce heard it. A deep, gasping breath at his ear as the body in his arms shifted.

"Joey," he questioned, pulling the body back.

She breathed deeply for a moment. The color returned to her skin, and when her eyes focused on him a weak smile tugged at her lips.

"Look like you've...seen a ghost," she whispered.

Royce laughed through his tears. Again clutching her tightly to him, he looked at Denny. The brother smiled past his sad eyes.

"We thought we'd lost you," Royce said, petting her hair.

Joey had just enough strength to turn her head to Dennis.

"Denny should know," she rasped. "Takes more than that to get rid of me."

Her eyes narrowed at her brother, then she looked down at Royce.

"Get some clothes, the both of you."

Denny hurried out, feeling awkward in the tensed tender moment. Royce held Joey a few more seconds, gently touching her face with his fingers. He laid her gently back on the table, grasping her hand.

"Will you be alright by yourself," he asked concerned.

She nodded weakly. "No problem."

He leaned in, brushing hair off her forehead. He planted a kiss on her temple. His finger lingered reluctantly in her hand before he left the room.

---

Joey awoke in the bedroom, covered up to her chin. Royce or Denny must have carried her there. Darkness still hung thick in the sky. Checking her watch, she found it was five o'clock in the morning.

She sat up, yawning. For a blissful moment she didn't remember the bad, painful things that had happened some hours ago. She only recollected the look of Royce's unscarred face and the feel of his fingers on his cheek. Then, everything came flooding back to her.

A coldness struck her back, chilling her to the bone. She whipped the covers off and ran to take a hot shower. After drying and changing quickly, she packed everything she had brought and some she hadn't.

She rushed through the eerily empty halls to the library. There she found Royce and Denny loitering around, speaking quietly to each other. They stopped talking as soon as she entered.

"Joey, you're awake," Dennis said, walking over to her.

"Yeah, that happened when people are done sleeping," she joked.

Denny smiled and hugged her shoulders. "Well, you never were the kind to do things simple."

Joey noticed the Arcanum lying on the floor. She moved away from her brother and bent to pick it up.

"I wanna get out of here," she said, stuffing the book in her pack. "Right now."

"How are we going to," Royce asked curiously. "Your car was totaled and mine wasn't real."

"My van's still here," Denny blurted out. "I hid it the night I came here. It hasn't moved."

Joey nodded. "Good. Let's go."

It somewhat surprised her that they didn't ask her why. They couldn't know. She wasn't even sure. Maybe they'd learned it was best to follow their instincts, and their instincts said to follow her.

Dennis left first, walking quickly out of the room as Royce stood. He stepped before her and gently took the pack form her arm. He didn't say anything, just took her hand and led her into the hall. There was something they left unspoken between them, as if saying the words might taint it or make it disappear all together. Their walk was quiet, but the silence was not empty or meaningless.


	13. DealsEgo amor tibi reprise

As Royce and Joey headed for the door to the outside world, Denny not too far ahead, she heard something behind her. She turned and saw the Jackal dragging a struggling Ben Moss across the hall by the cage now adorning his head. Kuhn had taken her advice. He stopped to look at her.

Royce tried blocking her, but Joey stopped him.

"Go out with Dennis," she asked him, looking into his eyes. "Please."

He moved away hesitantly, eyeing the Jackal. Once he was gone, Joey turned back to the ghost. He had moved close to her, leaving a now still Moss behind him.

"You want to be alone with me," he asked, his voice grating and suggestive.

"I just wanted to make sure you would keep your end of our bargain," Joey said.

"Cross my heart," he cackled, cutting an X in the fabric on his chest. "No harm will come to you or your companions. That is, as long as you keep your end."

The Jackal's lips curled back in a gleaning smile. "Then put deal stands, and you have nothing to worry about."

He grabbed one of her hands and brought it close to his face. Flicking his tongue out, he dragged it along the skin from her knuckles to her wrist. Then he jerked her toward him, his lips coming uncomfortably close to her ear.

"Of course," he whispered. "I would love to have more fun with you."

He sniffed at her hair and brought a hand toward her. But he couldn't touch her. He laughed as he backed away.

"Clever girl. I hope the playmate you bring me is as fun to toy with."

He turned and wrapped his clawed fist around the bars of Moss's head cage, continuing his trek down the hall.

"A piece of advice," Joey called out to him, though he didn't look back. "You have all of eternity to have fun with Moss. Don't play all your games in one night."

The Jackal howled with laughter as he vanished and his captive finally screamed.

---

Royce watched Joey emerge from the doorway into the cold early morning air. She walked up to him and nearly past him. He put a hand on her shoulder, intending to ask what had happened. Instead, he saw the whole thing as a vision flashed through his head.

"Royce?" Joey's concerned voice cut through to him.

"Yeah," he said, shaking the vision from his mind.

"You saw the Jackal a few minutes ago," she said flatly. "Have you been seeing things when you touch stuff?"

"Yeah, so?"

Joey let out an astonished gasp. "You're a closet psychic, Royce."

She started giggling and it brought a smile to Royce's face. He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I hope I can always make you laugh like that."

She fell silent. Royce had moved close to her, close enough she could feel his breath. She could see in his eyes what they had refused to say. It couldn't be helped anymore.

"There are girls out there ten times better than me," Joey said, looking away.

Denny had warned Royce about something like this. The concerned older brother told him that Joey wouldn't think herself good enough for anyone, especially someone she loved.

"I doubt it," he replied. Then he pulled her even closer and leaned to whisper in her ear. "I mean how many girls would understand when I say 'Ego amor tibi?'"

The sensation was the exact opposite of when the Jackal had been that close to her. Royce's breath tickled and warmed Joey's neck. She closed her eyes so she could feel it better.

"You heard that," she asked, a little breathless.

"Yeah. It sounds kinda silly, but it kept me form killing the girl I love."

He pulled back, wanting to see her reaction. She was smiling.

"You know," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I think I kinda dig you too."

"Really," Royce laughed, leaning in again.

Joey nodded, still smiling. Then, their lips met and they fell into a deep, tender kiss, something both had been waiting days for. As they touched, the same vision reached them both. They would be kissing each other like that for the rest of their lives, and for an eternity after.

--END--

Yea! I'm finally finished. I hope everyone enjoyed!


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